


Peter, Not Pietro

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Marvel, X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Past Relationship(s), Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 16:44:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10971282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: Charles hears one of the students up and awake in the middle of the night, and goes to investigate.





	Peter, Not Pietro

It’s just past four in the morning. It’s still dark outside, and though the birds have started singing no one else should be awake. All of the students are sleeping – or they ought be. All the staff are asleep except Hank, who’s pottering away in his lab – Charles can hear his thoughts from here in his office, hear him considering polymers, plastics, heat resistant fabrics, cotton blends, colour appeal. 

Charles has never known a man to put such effort into a birthday present before – Hank’s only planning on getting Jean a  _scarf._

He hears one lone thought, distinctly American, and he frowns, looking up from his work. 

_Hate it here, God, I want to go home. Can’t wake Wanda up. I sleep too much, God, but Ms Munroe is going to snap at me again if she sees me out of bed for fuck’s sake, why do they take so **long?**_

Ah. Maximoff.

Charles glances at the clock (four sixteen), and then he presses his lips together before pulling away from his desk, hands quick on the sides of his chair as he makes his way out of the office and down the corridor.

He can’t just  _leave_  the boy to fester in it, and all the other staff are asleep except Hank, but if Hank doesn’t know he’s up he won’t get looking for him. And if Maximoff hasn’t gone to mess up the other man’s lab yet, he won’t tonight. Maximoff  _likes_  Hank, after all. He likes most of the staff, really - bar Charles, that is, but that can’t be helped. His wheels make barely any noise on the wooden floorboards, and so when he dips into the living room the boy is in he doesn’t notice his headmaster.

“Pietro?” Charles speaks quietly, but the flinch is still spectacularly dramatic as he jumps half way across the room, at superspeed. Maximoff stares at him, lip curled. Charles hears the half-rehearsed,  _Ms Munroe, please, I’ll be quiet-_  ring through his head. It’s strange, hearing Pietro’s thoughts: Charles only hears snatches of thought and phrasing, because the majority goes by so fast that it takes Charles a few moments to dissect and digest it.

“It's  _Peter_ , old man, for Christ’s sake.” Ah, such a nice boy, isn’t he just? Charles wonders how long the press for the new name will last - it started when he was fourteen, so his mother had said. Charles can hear the difference in each name; Pietro means Mom and Wanda and a string of countries in the east of Europe, and then it means slurs and sharp words and a particularly vehement hiss from a librarian in Utah, once. Peter means America, and safety, and a woman that smiled at him once in a corner store and said, “My son was called Peter.”

“If you’re here to tell me to go to bed I’m just going to be up for another-”

“So you sleep two hours a night, on average?” Maximoff recoils slightly, blinking at him with an expression of offence on his face. Does the boy  _forget_ that Charles is a telepath? Lord knows he doesn’t do this with Jean, but then again, he  _loves_  Jean. He loves her breasts, at least, and there are lengths to which Charles will not go to make his students happy.

“Three, if I’m really tired.” He speaks reluctantly, and Charles can feel his distrust and his uncertainty, hear him think  _uncomfortable_  and  _tired_ , and those thoughts come in line with  _I want Wanda._  Curious, that dependency they have on each other, but Charles is very careful not to dig.

“I’ll speak to Ms Munroe." 

"Don’t read my mind!” Maximoff snaps at him, though Charles hears the  _Thank God,_  as if it’s broadcast. Ororo is gentle, if somewhat strict about bedroom hours and curfews - and as this means no late night wanders into New York, that’s likely for the best. All the same, exceptions can be made.

“You don’t mind when Ms Grey does,” Charles points out, mildly – oh, dear. He isn’t _jealous_ , is he? The thought catches in his mind, and he feels a vague wish to moue, but he doesn’t/

“And I’d let Peter Parker suck my dick, asshole, but it doesn’t mean you can do that too!” Charles winces at both the imagery ( _children!)_  and the sharp tone, but he doesn’t say anything more. There is an uncomfortable pause. 

“Peter Parker?” Charles attempts. “You could do better.”

“Yeah, I could fuck my dad like  _you.”_  Well, that was unexpected. Charles stares at him, and Maximoff reaches up, rubbing tiredly at his own temple. He hears snatches of thoughts, then, snatches of  _Erik Lehnsherr: serial killer and bad dad_  and  _I can’t believe he had sex with this dick_  and, prevailingly,  _I want to go home._

“Why did you come here?” Charles asks, because he doesn’t understand, and yet even as he speaks he knows what the answer’s going to be.

“I couldn’t leave Wanda alone.” Pietro looks at Charles as if he’s a trapped animal, and Charles hates that he makes the boy feel this way: he wishes he could fix it, wishes he could do anything at all to make the boy just _like_ him, but he is bitterly aware that such things are likely never to be possible.

"No. Of course you couldn’t.” Charles reaches into his pocket and throws the contents: the boy catches the keys, his hand flickering at obscene speed. “Go. Have your morning run. Lock the door behind you when you come back.”

It’s obvious that Maximoff thinks the gift horse is a Trojan one, as Pietro narrows his ice-coloured eyes and clutches the keys to his chest, but Charles just reverses from the room, making his way down the corridor and back towards his office.

He feels the rush of Pietro toward the front door as a breeze that hits the back of his neck.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, hope you enjoyed that! Check [this link](http://dictionarywrites.tumblr.com/post/160853818533/request-commission-information) out if you’re interested in making a request. I love requests, so please feel free to send them in!


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